


what i go to school for

by ecubed



Category: K-pop, NCT (Band)
Genre: Aged Up NCT Dream, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Boys Kissing, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends as Family, Humor, Jisung is everyone's actual child, M/M, Meet-Cute, Panic Attacks, Rock Puns, Romance, Study Date, Tutoring, chenji are both students, every version of Jisung that I write is pretty much just me, overprotective mum Jaemin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:20:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26791297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecubed/pseuds/ecubed
Summary: It starts with a mistake.Or maybe it’s fate. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference between the two.Dance major Jisung takes geology. His friends don’t understand why.
Relationships: Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 13
Kudos: 88





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> This could have easily been a one-shot but I'm feeling impatient, and need motivation to get my ass into gear and finish this. 
> 
> Just a warning - there's a panic attack scene. it's pretty vague but just in case it's a trigger for you, the scene starts with 'He manages to make it halfway down the corridor before it hits.' and ends '-just push up and -'.
> 
> Better safe than sorry. 
> 
> Title from Busted's song of the same name. Not the same premise as the song, but still think it fits pretty well.
> 
> As always, hope you enjoy!

“Weren’t you supposed to be studying?” Jaemin observes from the doorway, coffee in hand. “This looks more like napping.” 

Jisung slowly lifts his head from where he’d been resting it on top of his books. There’s a wet wrinkled spot on page 68, right in the middle of a diagram illustrating subduction. Jisung wipes his mouth with his sleeve. 

Jaemin looks annoyingly fresh, with his clean hair and bright eyes, and Jisung kind of wants to throw something at him. “I have books open, and I want to die,” Jisung snaps. “Sounds like studying to me.”

Jaemin blinks in surprise. “Wow,” he says slowly. He slips into the seat across from Jisung, pushing Jisung’s books aside to make room for his extra large iced coffee. The dining table is a disaster - every inch of space strewn with books and notes and uncapped highlighters. “Is everything ok?” he asks. “You’re not usually this prickly.”

Jisung rubs at his eyes, and everything goes momentarily blurry. He’s been at this for over ten hours, awake for a full twenty-four. His eyes sting with every blink, and they feel so swollen that Jisung’s sure his already small eyes have all but disappeared. His hair is sticking up in every direction, stiff with grease, and it feels like something has died in his mouth. “I’m exhausted,” Jisung admits. “And also the stupidest person on the planet.” His eyes prickle. “My head might be big, but there’s nothing in there. It’s all empty space. I’m just so _so_ stupid.”

Jaemin looks at him, alarmed. “Have you considered getting some proper sleep?” he suggests gently, as if he’s talking to a child - and in Jisung’s sleep-deprived state, he may as well be. “And maybe a shower? You could use one.”

Jisung is too tired to be offended. “No time,” he says, fighting a yawn. “Test tomorrow.”

Jaemin glances down at the mess surrounding Jisung, and understanding lights up his eyes. He clucks sympathetically. “Geology?”

“Geology,” Jisung repeats, with a resigned nod. “And I’m going to fail.” The hysterical edge creeps back into his voice.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Jaemin dismisses. “You’re a smart kid.”

“I am an idiot,” Jisung says tonelessly.

Jaemin is quiet for a moment. “If it’s that bad, why don’t you just drop the class?” he says finally. “You’re a music student. It’s not like you need it.”

Jisung doesn’t even have to think about it. “No.” 

“Why not?” Jaemin asks. “You don’t need it. You don’t like it, _and_ it’s making you miserable. All good reasons to drop the class. Life’s too short.”

“No,” Jisung repeats, as he begins shuffling through his notes. “It’s character building.”

Jaemin gives him a funny look, then shakes his head. “You are so weird sometimes.”

“Not weird,” Jisung says with a shrug of his shoulders. “Just a more evolved human being than you.” He glances pointedly at the door. “Now can you please go. You’re distracting me.” 

Jaemin sighs. “Alright, alright. I’m going already.” He pauses for a moment, then slides his coffee towards Jisung. “Take this. You need it more than I do.” He leans over to ruffle Jisung’s hair affectionately, and then he’s gone.

Jisung eyes the coffee suspiciously - he _could_ use an energy boost - then takes a small sip.

The moment the bitter liquid hits his tongue, Jisung knows he’s made a mistake.

His mouth puckers in disgust. “Poison,” he gasps, pushing the cup as far away from himself as possible. No amount of mental alertness was worth putting yourself through that kind of suffering.

Jisung sighs. 

He’d have to take on geology on his own.

* * *

“How’d it go?” Jaemin asks as soon as Jisung walks through the door. 

Jisung curses. There goes his plan of slinking in unnoticed. 

He feels the heavy weight of three pairs of eyes on him, and he just wants to disappear. He wishes his friends would go back to watching their movie, and leave him alone. When he’d moved in with Jaemin, he hadn’t realised that he’d be trading one set of parents for another. 

Jisung shrugs his backpack off his shoulder, and dumps it on the floor. It lands with a heavy thud. He kicks the bag across the hallway.

“Ok, so that was definitely the wrong question,” Jeno observes.

“I passed, if that’s what you’re wondering.” 

“That’s great!” 

Jisung sees the genuine relief that floods Jaemin’s body, at his words, but it’s not enough to make him feel any better. “See,” Jaemin gushes, “I told you, you had nothing to worry about.” 

Jaemin’s grin drops, when he looks up to find Jisung staring at him, a blank expression on his face. Jaemin’s eyebrows wrinkle in confusion.“Why aren’t you happier about it?”

“Because I _barely_ passed,” Jisung says. “It was a close shave. _So_ close. Any closer and I’d be bleeding out in the bathroom because I’d nicked an artery.” He looks up to find Jaemin staring at him in concern. He sighs. “That’s all metaphorical by the way. I’m totally fine.”

“Metaphorical or not - still morbid,” Jeno mutters to himself. 

Jaemin exchanges a worried look with Renjun. “If you say so…” he says.

Renjun doesn’t seem phased. He pops a grape into his mouth, and chews thoughtfully. “If you need help, I think one of my friends is in your rock class. Maybe he could help you?”

Jisung shakes his head. “No thank you.”

Renjun blinks at him in surprise. “What? Why not?” he demands. “You said that you’re struggling. Why wouldn’t you want someone to help you?”

“I just don’t really need more people finding out how stupid I am.” 

Renjun’s glare softens. Jisung can see that he gets it, the whole pride thing. 

Jisung has never done well with failure - always pushing himself harder and harder, almost to his breaking point. “Just think about it,” Renjun presses gently. “He’s nice - most of the time. And I promise he’d never make you feel stupid. The offer stands.”

“Thanks,” Jisung says, “But the answer’s still going to be no. I can handle this on my own.”

Renjun opens his mouth to argue, but Jisung cuts him off. “Now,” he says firmly. “I’m going to go to sleep for about ten years, and when I wake up everyone who doesn’t live here better not be here.”

He ignores Renjun’s offended look, and drags himself to his bedroom, where he collapses into his bed, not even bothering to strip off his jeans. 

* * *

As the semester progresses, Jisung’s suffering continues. 

Jaemin is not the only one who’s suspicious about Jisung and his determination to conquer geology. Jeno’s more subtle about it, bringing it up casually over breakfast as Jisung stares into the black void of his coffee. Even Mark - who has never given up on anything in his entire life - gently suggests that perhaps Jisung’s energies might be better spent elsewhere.

Jisung can’t even blame them for prying, for suggesting he’d be better off just dropping the stupid class. He knows they’re doing it because they’re worried about him. He’s been a complete mess since somewhere around week two of the semester, when he’d realised that he was in way over his head. The smallest things set him off - he’d cried when they’d watched Dante’s Peak, sobbing about how he still couldn’t remember the difference between basaltic and silicic magma, and why were there so many types of volcanoes, and how he might as well just throw himself into one. He’d even made Jaemin throw out the Himalayan rock salt, because it just hits too close to home.

It’s embarrassing how this one class has him wound so tight, and he understands the concerned glances but he isn’t ready to give up quite yet - not on himself, and not on the reason why he ended up stuck in that class in the first place.

And he definitely isn’t going to share that reason with any of his friends. It’s stupid and embarrasing and he’d die first. 

It all starts with a mistake.

Or maybe it’s fate. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference between the two. 

Jisung’s current situation comes down to one thing - a misleading course name.

_Rock of Ages_

It was probably Jisung’s own fault for not reading the course description, drawn in by the catchy unit title. In his defense, he hadn’t yet known how much geologists love jokes and wordplay. (Over the past few weeks, he’s learned that it’s basically a job requirement.) 

Suddenly, he’d found himself sitting in a lecture theatre with 200 other people, staring in complete bewilderment when the lecturer brought up his slide show. He’s expecting Jimmy Page, Mick Jagger, maybe even Elvis. Instead, he gets igneous, sedimentary and metamorphic. 

He’s in the middle of trying to work out an exit strategy, when Dr. Thompson makes a terrible pun (the first of many, Jisung will learn). Everyone around Jisung groans, but then there’s a loud startled laugh coming from somewhere behind him. Jisung’s head whips around almost involuntarily to find the source of the sound, and he finds himself face to face with the sun.

Jisung isn’t really one for poetry, but there’s no other way for him to describe the moment that his eyes meet those of the laughing boy. It’s as if the whole world drops away, and all Jisung sees is _him_ , and all he can feel is his own heart hiccuping in his chest, and the warmth spreading down his neck.

His hair is a vibrant shade of purple, and his smile is so bright, that Jisung feels his own lips curving up in answer. The boy’s eyes are narrow, and there’s something cat-like about his face. Maybe it’s the cheekbones. Or maybe it’s the self-satisfied curl to his lips when he catches Jisung staring at him.

Whatever it is, Jisung feels the colour flare in his cheeks, and he quickly turns away, managing to knock his phone (and a few folders) off his desk in the process.

He spends the next hour hoping to disappear, and fighting the urge to turn back to glance at the boy. 

It’s the longest hour of his life, but when Jisung leaves the theatre, he can’t help thinking that taking a science class might be a good idea for him. It could be a new experience. It would broaden his mind.

Or something like that.

* * *

He is regretting that decision now. 

It’s been five weeks of frustration. Five long, miserable weeks. 

And he still doesn’t even know the purple-haired boy’s name. Apart from when Jisung had lent him a pen the previous week, they haven’t even spoken. And Jisung’s sure that not even Mark would consider pen-lending as a successful form of flirting. And if Mark ‘No-Boyfriend-Since-Birth’ Lee, would rate Jisung’s attempts at getting to know the boy as pathetic, he knows he’s really in trouble.

So far, all his suffering has been for nothing. 

And boy, _has_ he been suffering.

He’s suffering right now, sitting in his tutorial, with his most recent practical exercise burning shamefully against his palm. His tutor, a serious looking grad student called Kun, had given him a meaningful look, as he’d handed back Jisung’s pathetic paper, and sure enough there’s a bright red ‘Please see me’ scrawled on the last page.

It’s underlined twice for emphasis.

Jisung wants to crawl in a hole and die. 

He doesn’t have an explanation for his bad grades - apparently I’m too stupid is not a valid excuse. He leaves his meeting with a recommendation for a series of educational Youtube videos, and an encouraging pat on the shoulder from Kun.

It doesn’t help. 

He manages to make it halfway down the corridor before it hits. The energy is sucked out of him, and he feels unsteady on his feet. The unwelcome tingling spreads across his skin. Jisung’s breath quickens. This couldn’t be happening - not here, not now. He forces himself to walk - one foot in front of the other, then again, and again - but he can’t fight this for much longer. Jisung breaks into a run, ignoring the weird looks that are being thrown his way. He doesn’t make it far - his legs give out as he rounds a corner into a dead end. 

But some higher power must be watching over him because the passage is mercifully empty, filled with nothing but the electric buzzing of the old vending machine jammed in the corner. Jisung sinks down onto the ground, back sliding against the wall. He tucks his head against his knees, and tries to remember how to breathe. 

He doesn’t know how long he sits there - seconds, minutes, hours. Time has no meaning when he gets this way. 

But it’ll pass. It always does. 

All that he needs to do is take a breath, and get up. It’s not that hard. He can do it. Just push up and -

“Are you ok?”

Jisung’s thoughts skitter to a sudden halt. The voice comes from somewhere above him, and it sounds concerned. 

Jisung’s cheeks heat with shame at being caught like this. He looks up slowly, and his stomach drops.

It’s him.

Of course it would have to be him, because the universe clearly takes great delight in making Jisung Park’s life a total nightmare. 

The purple-haired boy is looking down at Jisung, forehead creased with worry, waiting for Jisung to answer his question.

“I’m fine,” Jisung says quickly. He winces at how strained and hoarse his voice sounds. 

The other boy frowns. “You don’t look fine to me.” He crosses his legs and sits down next to Jisung in one fluid move. “Do you need anything? Want me to get someone for you?”

Jisung’s ears grow hot. “It’s nothing,” he says. “Really.” The last thing he needs is for someone to call Jaemin about this. Jaemin would probably demand he quit the course. He’d drag Jisung to the registration office himself. “I just freaked out a little. It’s not a big deal.”

The boy doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t press Jisung to explain himself, and Jisung feels a wave of gratitude sweep through him. The boy reaches into his bag, and pulls out a bottle of water. “Well, you should have some water at least,” he tells Jisung, handing the bottle over to him. “Go on. I haven’t touched it.”

Jisung stares at the bottle in his hand - it’s cool to the touch, still frosted over with condensation - and suddenly, embarrassingly, he feels his eyes well with tears. The gesture means nothing, but Jisung feels so tired, and fragile, that it feels huge and overwhelming, and Jisung’s body chooses this moment to betray him again, making him look like a fool in front of the prettiest boy Jisung has ever seen.

Jisung presses his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the trickle of tears. “I’m so sorry,” he says, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. “I promise I’m normal. I just haven’t had much sleep, and then I failed my assignment. And it’s all just coming out right now. It’s not a big deal. You can leave me now, I’ll be fine.”

The boy makes no move to get up. “I’m not going to leave when you’re upset,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Not when I specifically came to check on you.”

Jisung freezes. “What do you mean?”

“I saw you bolt down the corridor after our tute. I thought you looked upset.” He gives Jisung a pointed look. “I was right.”

“But you don’t know me.”

The boy shrugs, his shoulder jostling against Jisung’s. “Not yet.”

Jisung doesn’t know what to say, so he just stares at his fingers, and twists at the cap of the water bottle he’s still clutching in his hands. 

The other boy doesn’t say anything for a moment. They sit side by side in silence, and It’s not as awkward as it should be considering the situation.

After a moment, the boy seems to make a decision. He clears his throat, then turns his face towards Jisung. “If it’s the course that has you so stressed, I could help you.” 

Jisung blinks, surprised. 

The boy hesitates slightly before continuing. He speaks slowly, choosing his words carefully. “I’m pretty good with this class, and you did lend me that pen last week, so I owe you for that. I could help you,” His tone is deliberately light, but there’s an undercurrent of uncertainty in his voice. 

“If you want me to,” he adds, when Jisung doesn’t say anything. 

Jisung doesn’t know _what_ to say to something like that. The boy’s smile is so nice. _He_ seems so nice. But it’s too much. Jisung shakes his head. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered.” The boy nudges Jisung’s shoulder. “And you know what they say, don’t look a gift cow in the mouth.”

The expression is awkward and clumsy, and the boy has an accent that Jisung can’t place, but the words are so earnest that Jisung finds himself nodding despite himself.. “Ok, if you insist.” He pauses. “But just warning you, I am _terrible_ at geology.” 

He figures that the boy deserves to know what he’s getting himself into. A chance to rescind the offer, and run. 

But he doesn’t run. Instead, he grins at Jisung, all sharp teeth and sparkling eyes. “Challenge accepted.” 

He sticks out his hand. “I’m Chenle.”

Jisung’s heart pounds. 

Purple-haired boy has a name. 

He accepts Chenle’s handshake and tries to ignore the way his heart starts to race when he grasps at Chenle’s hand. “Jisung Park. Nice to meet you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi all
> 
> There's some anxiety/perfectionism in this one. nothing crazy but better to be safe.
> 
> also, I have no idea how to format text messages and so for this chapter italics is jisung, and bold italics are chenle.

Jisung has a stomach ache. 

His gut twists painfully, sharp enough to knock the breath out of him. It could be nerves, or something altogether more sinister. For all he knows, he could be dying. 

That would be exactly the kind of thing to happen to him. Mere minutes before he’s supposed to meet Chenle, he’ll be struck down by some awful disease, and promptly die, the chance to bask in the warmth of Chenle’s smile and look deeply into his beautiful eyes, crumbling to ashes between his fingertips.

Jisung pauses. He might be getting ahead of himself. 

He takes a breath, wipes his clammy hands on his jeans, and covers the final distance to the coffee shop where he’s supposed to meet Chenle. Jisung had suggested the library, but apparently Chenle is under a lifetime ban (Jisung was too afraid to ask).

When he steps into the cafe, Chenle’s already there, eyes glued to his phone, tapping furiously at the screen. He’s wearing a black hoodie, his purple hair falling across his forehead. 

Jisung swallows. Chenle looks good. Unfairly so. Almost as if he can hear the turn of Jisung’s thoughts, Chenle’s head snaps up and his eyes land on Jisung. Their gazes meet, and it’s electric - like all the romcoms Jisung would never admit to watching. And then Chenle smiles at him and Jisung’s insides begin to melt. 

He’s no longer a person - just a puddle in a human-shaped skin sack.

He picks his way through the mass of bodies crowding around the register, murmuring a string of _excuse mes_ and _I'm sorry_ s as he tucks his elbows close to his body, and tries to avoid stepping on someone’s toes. 

His heart is beating in wild anticipation by the time he reaches Chenle’s table. He’s managed to grab a booth by the window. Through the glass, Jisung can see the tree-lined walkway that winds its way across campus. The wind tugs the browning leaves off the trees, and sends them skittering against the cement.

It’s a pretty view. 

But not as pretty as Chenle.

Jisung drops his bag onto the seat and slides in after it. “Hey,” he says. His throat feels dry and he sounds nervous to his own ears. He hopes Chenle doesn’t notice.

“Hey,” Chenle says brightly, his eyes shining with expectation. “Are you ready to have a _rockin’_ good time?”

Jisung blinks. Then blinks again. 

“Get it?” Chenle looks at Jisung, and his smile falters just a little. “ _Rock_ in? As in rocks? Like we’re studying.”

The hesitation in his voice sounds out of character for someone who seemed to radiate confidence the way that Chenle did. It’s barely detectable, but it’s there - in the slight pause between words, and the way he swallows, loud enough that Jisung can hear it. Evidence that despite the bright smile, Chenle is nervous too. 

Suddenly, they’re on equal footing - Chenle has bad jokes, and Jisung has bad grades - and apart from the fact that Jisung has to remind himself how to breathe everytime he looks at Chenle’s face, he has nothing to worry about.

That thought is enough to make the knot in Jisung’s stomach loosen. 

“Oh, I get it,” Jisung says. “I’m just trying not to encourage it.” He tries for serious, but the grin that tugs at the corner of his lips ruins the effect.

He can’t bring himself to mind though, when Chenle looks back at him with eyes full of mischief. “Lucky for you, I don’t need any encouragement,” he tells Jisung proudly. “You’ll just have to get used to the puns.”

Jisung groans. “Oh god.”

“You can just call me Chenle.”

Jisung closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “That was terrible.”

Chenle frowns. “Well, now I’m feeling basalt-ed.”

Jisung is lost for words. Chenle’s cute, but Jisung’s almost reached his threshold for bad jokes. He’s just about to make some excuse - he’d left the stove on, he suddenly feels sick, he’d forgotten to pick up his mum from the airport - when Chenle starts snickering.

“Oh my god,” he gulps. “You should see your face right now.”

Jisung tilts his head in confusion, as he watches Chenle try to compose himself.

When Chenle finally manages to catch his breath, he smiles softly at Jisung. “I’m sorry,” he says, “You seemed stressed, so I wanted to make you laugh. But just now you looked like you wanted to run away, so that was probably not the best approach.”

Jisung isn’t sure what to make of that - he hates knowing that he’d done such a bad job of concealing his nervousness that it had been written all over his face for Chenle to see, but the fact that Chenle’s first instinct was to try to put him at ease makes something warm stir in his chest.

It’s a dangerous feeling, and Jisung does his best to smother it before it has a chance to grow into anything more. 

He brings his attention back to Chenle. “So does that mean that I won’t be subjected to any more puns?” he asks hopefully.

Chenle shakes his head. “I can’t make that promise, but I will try to keep them to a minimum.”

Jisung snorts. “Thank you for your sacrifice.” “Anything for my students,” Chenle says seriously.

“Oh.” Jisung quirks a brow. “So we _are_ actually going to get to the tutoring thing at some point? I was starting to have doubts.”

“Well that was rude,” Chenle sniffs. “You really should have more respect.” Jisung’s stomach clenches painfully at the words, and for a second, he’s sure that he’s crossed some invisible line. But then he sees the glint in Chenle’s eyes and he’s so obviously delighted by Jisung’s cheek, that it makes Jisung’s chest feel tight, like his heart has suddenly grown three sizes.

He ducks his head, trying to hide his smile. “I’m sorry, Chenle-sunbaenim,” he says meekly. “I’ll do better.”

“That’s right,” Chenle says smugly. “You will.” He clears his throat. “You are right though,” he adds.. “We should probably get to the studying thing. That _is_ why you’re here.”

Jisung almost laughs out loud at that. 

Yes, _that_ was exactly why he was here. Instead, he swallows down his laughter, and nods. “Where should we start?”

At Jisung’s words, Chenle’s whole demeanour shifts. His back straightens and he seems to grow taller. His face lights up with determination. Everything about him demands to be taken seriously. 

Jisung is a little impressed. 

Chenle gives him an appraising look as he leans back in his seat. “What are you struggling with?”

Jisung thinks about his answer for a moment, and decides honesty is the best policy. “Everything.”

Chenle’s cool confidence slips a little. “What do you mean ‘everything’?” he demands. Jisung shrugs. He’s trying for nonchalant, but his cheeks feel hot. “By everything, I really mean everything,” he repeats. “I don’t think I’ve understood anything since the second week. It just goes over my head. It’s like every time Thompson opens his mouth, all I hear is white noise.”

“Ok,” Chenle says slowly. “Then maybe if I could have a look at some of your assignments? Just to see where we’re at.”

“No,” Jisung blurts out. His heart has started pounding again, walloping inside his ribcage in a way that makes him feel sick. “You can’t do that.”

Chenle gives him a strange look. “Why not?” “I just-” Jisung starts but the words don’t seem to come. He takes a breath, counts down from ten, before he tries again. “They’re just bad,” he says quickly, trying to get the words out of his mouth before his brain can catch up, and make him see that sharing so much of himself is a bad idea. “My scores are bad, and you’re going to think I’m stupid.” 

He can’t look at Chenle right now, just stares at his hands, resting on the table in front of him. He feels faraway like they don’t even belong to him. 

“Jisung.” 

He hears Chenle’s voice, faint, as though his ears are stuffed full of cotton wool. It’s an effort to drag himself back into his body, but he manages, digging his fingernails into the flesh of his palm, hard enough for it to sting. He forces himself to look up at Chenle.

Chenle is frowning at him, a little crease forming between his eyebrows. Jisung feels his entire face flame with shame. He drops his gaze back to the table, and wonders which god he needs to pray to for the ground to open up beneath him, and swallow him whole. It sounds like a better alternative than having to face Chenle, who despite being aware of Jisung’s existence for less than a week, has already borne witness to two of his breakdowns. “Jisung,” Chenle repeats. His voice is gentle, calming, as though he’s talking to a puppy, or a child, or maybe a twenty-year old boy who’s freaking out over a bad test score. “I would never think that you’re stupid,” he says earnestly. “You wouldn’t have gotten into one of the top universities in the country if you were.”

“You won’t be saying that after you see my grades.”

Chenle sighs. “I promise I won’t judge. I just need to know where you’re at.” He nudges Jisung’s foot with the toe of his sneaker. “Please trust me on that.”

He sounds so sincere that Jisung finds himself nodding without realising it. There’s just something weirdly genuine about Chenle that has him acting unlike himself.

“Fine,” he breathes. He turns away from Chenle, and after a moment, he pulls a crumpled stack of assessments from the depths of his bag, and thrusts them at Chenle before he has a chance to change his mind.

“Thank you,” Chenle says, before turning his attention to Jisung’s work. He flicks through a couple of pages, his face showing no reaction. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were struggling with everything,” he murmurs softly..

Jisung inhales sharply. “You said you weren’t going to judge.” The betrayal stings. 

Chenle looks up at him, surprised. One look at Jisung’s face has him stumbling over his words.

I’m sorry,” Chenle says quickly. “ That’s not how I meant it. It was just an observation.”

Jisung tilts his head, disbelieving. 

“I’m not judging,” Chenle repeats firmly. “But I think that part of your problem is that you’ve convinced yourself that you’re stupid and that geology is beyond you.” He grabs a fistful of Jisung’s old papers and shoves them in front of Jisung’s face, sheets of paper snapping loudly with the force of the gesture. “You’ve given this too much power,” Chenle tells him. “But this doesn’t define you. It’s a piece of paper. What’s there to be scared of?”

Jisung hesitates. “Nothing?” 

He doesn’t really believe it, but it seems to be the right answer.

“Exactly!” Chenle says, his attention drifting back to Jisung’s papers. “I’m not going to lie to you. We have a lot of work to do, but you’re far from a hopeless case and -” he glances up at Jisung and there’s a small smile playing about his lips, “- I’m really good at this. I need you to trust me on that.”

There’s a beat of silence. 

Then Jisung nods. “Alright,” he tells Chenle. 

“I trust you,” he says, and he’s surprised to find that it’s not a lie. He does trust Chenle. He might be a little blunt in his approach, but his words seem genuine, and Jisung is filled with a fragile sort of hope that maybe Chenle’s right. Maybe all this time he’s been paralysed by his fear of failure, by his fear of the unfamiliar. Chenle’s confidence in himself is infectious, and it feels wrong for Jisung to doubt his abilities as a teacher, when Chenle seems unflappable in his certainty that Jisung’s grades were not beyond saving. 

Chenle beams. “Ok, then let’s get started.” 

***

Jisung leaves the cafe later than he’d anticipated. He’s not sure how Chenle does it, but he’s so caught up in listening to him explain how the earth’s layers were formed that time gets away from him and before he knows it, it’s past six and he’s late to meet Jaemin.

It was good. Great even.

Despite Chenle’s teasing, and the terrible jokes that slip out every so often, he feels better about geology that he has all semester. When Chenle explains that the earth’s core was formed when gravity causes the densest elements to sink to the centre, Jisung gets it. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel as dense. 

He’s not core material, he is upper mantle at least. 

When he meets Jaemin, he’s late enough that he can’t explain it away with a simple _my bus was late_ or _class went overtime_. So he just bows his head apologetically and lets Jaemin nag and complain until he’s got it all out of his system. 

Jaemin pays for his dinner anyway. 

He lets Jaemin go full mother hen - lets him fill Jisung’s glass, lets him cut the meat up into bite-sized pieces. He lets Jaemin ramble about his classes, his shitty boss at the movie theatre, the bike rides he goes on with Jeno, and Renjun’s art show. He deserves that much for how long Jisung had left him waiting. 

And Jisung doesn’t mind, when he’s only half-listening anyway. He doesn’t mean to but his mind drifts to Chenle - to his sharp little teeth, to how easy it had been to make him laugh, and to the streak of determination that had come out when he’d been tutoring Jisung.

He absolutely does not think about Chenle’s lips. 

Full, plush, and a little chapped. Jisung can’t help wondering if they’d be as soft as they had looked. What it would feel like to - 

A sharp kick to the shins sends him crashing back to reality.

Jaemin is glaring at him, his mouth a thin line. “Are you even listening to me?” he demands.

“Of course,” Jisung says, rubbing his leg gingerly - Jaemin has an impressive kick. “You’re not sure if you want to kiss Jeno and Renjun, or watch them kiss each other.”

Jaemin blinks. “I did not say any of those words.”

Jisung shrugs. “I guess I was reading between the lines.” He plucks a piece of meat from the grill, and shoves it into his mouth, chewing smugly.

“You are a brat,” Jaemin mutters. “Just wait until you like someone. I will make your life hell.”

Jisung almost chokes on his meat.

***

When they finally make it back to their flat, Jisung ignores Jeno’s attempts to draw him into a game of Mario Kart, and disappears into his room. 

He’s had a long and stressful day, and he needs the quiet calm of his own company. He trades his tight jeans for his pyjamas, lazily scrubs his skin with a face wipe, and flops onto his bed.

He’s worn out, but the glowing face of his alarm clock tells him it’s just past nine, which is way too early to be an acceptable bedtime for a university student like him. 

He considers pulling out his computer - he has a couple of movie recommendations from Renjun languishing in his Netflix queue - but he isn’t really in the mood. Instead he fishes out his phone from between his crumpled sheets, and swipes it open. 

The screen is painfully bright in the muted darkness of his room. 

Jisung hesitates, fingers hovering above the screen. He’s not sure if this is a good idea, but his mum had always taught him to be polite, and he wouldn’t want her thinking she’d raised some kind of heathen.

Jisung doesn’t let himself think. 

He finds Chenle’s name, taps out a message and presses send before he has a chance to talk himself out of it. 

_Hi Chenle. It’s Jisung. I just wanted to thank you for today. I suck at geology, and you didn’t have to do this, so thank you for being so patient with me :)_

Jisung spends a few agonising minutes wondering if he’d overdone it with, whether he’d been so earnest and eager that it went right past sincere and straight into offputting. 

Then his phone lights up, and Jisung’s body floods with relief.

**_Hi!! No problem. It was fun. And you’re not that bad. I promise :)_**

A couple of seconds later, his phone pings again.

**_You just have to be gneiss-er to yourself_**

**_Geology is tuff!!_**

Jisung can’t help the goofy smile that spills over his face. He’s grateful that he’s alone right now - Renjun would have never let him live it down.

_Oh my god_

_Why are you doing this_

**_Honestly?_**

**_It’s fun :)_**

_That’s not very nice >:( _

**_*not gneiss_**

_I hate you_

**_…Really?_**

__...no__

**_Good :)_**

Jisung stares at Chenle’s message, and doesn’t let himself think about what it might mean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed 
> 
> let me know what you think

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/kudos appreciated as always. 
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts


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